


Grantchester: Second Chance

by Esgalnen



Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6480484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esgalnen/pseuds/Esgalnen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ill and despairing after Gary Bell's death, Sidney collapses and is discovered by a young widow with a daughter of her own who takes Sidney into her own home, and gradually starts to fall in love with him.  Grace, Lily and Bishop Whittington are my own creation</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grantchester: Second Chance

** Grantchester: Second Chance **

 

Margaret had kissed him gently, almost tenderly before stepping back and saying, “Sidney, I care about you; I do truly, but I couldn’t be a Vicar’s wife.  I’m sorry.”

And then the memory of her kiss still burning his lips, he watched her walk away.  Whether it was Margaret’s revelation, or his own feelings that he’d failed two of his parishioners, Sidney didn’t know.  Sleep eluded him, and because he could not sleep, he drank more.  It was a cough at first, and a shortness of breath.  He’d also developed a constant headache that no amount of painkiller seemed to alleviate.

He’d started taking long walks at night in an attempt to tire his body so that he would sleep.  Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.  The low-grade fever he had developed made him nauseous and unwilling to eat.

He’d been out walking with Dickens, his black Labrador, trying to minimize his coughing and fighting the nausea that rolled through him when he quietly fainted.

He regained consciousness slowly, Dickens was whimpering and he could feel a warm hand on his shoulder, “Mr Chambers, can you hear me?”

“Wha-what happened?” he murmured, knowing that the answer was that he’d fainted.

“Let’s get you up on your feet,” a gentle, but firm voice said.  A fit of coughing assailed him and he thought that his lungs would emerge through his nose, a cold nose pressed itself into his hand and he heard the canine whimper.

“Lean on me, Mr Chambers,” the voice said.

“Don’t forget Dickens,” he muttered.

“I don’t think he’d let me,” the voice replied. “Come on Mr Chambers, let’s get you inside.”

He barely remembered the car journey, although he had a confused impression of the black Labrador bouncing round his feet.

An exclamation, “Grace!” and then he had a confused memory; warm, strong arms were around his waist, and a gentle, yet firm voice urging him to take a few more steps and then he could lie down.  He vaguely recalled looking down into a pale, elfin face and eyes of such limpid green that he could have fallen into them forever.

A cold disc was being pressed against his chest and back, and then he was being helped into a pyjama jacket and being eased back onto pillows.  He could hear two voices high above him, but the words seem to flow over and around him.

“.....pneumonia, I can hear the crackles....”

“.....what now, Father?  Should I telephone.....”

Then, for some inexplicable reason, to Sidney’s disgust, his consciousness faded away.

He half-awoke, feeling something covering his mouth and nose, he felt a gentle hand on his forehead and then a strong male voice, “He’s going to have a rough couple of days I suspect.  Think you can handle it?”

“I think so,” the female voice spoke.

“I have every faith in you, Grace,” the male voice spoke again.  “I’d best be off.  I’ll be back later to give Mr Chambers another injection.”

“Yes, Father,” there was a wry tone in the voice and he couldn’t suppress a smile.  Slowly he opened his eyes and stared up into familiar green eyes.

“Mr Chambers?” she asked gently, “are you thirsty?”

He nodded slowly, she gently removed the mask and then one hand was behind his back and the other was holding a cup of pale liquid to his lips.  He drank gratefully.  Their eyes met and she said gently, “Enough, Mr Chambers?”

“Sidney,” he replied, “you must be Grace.”

“Grace Whittington,” she replied gently, “I’ll put that oxygen mask back on you, and I want you to rest.”

Next to the bed, Dickens whined and pushed his head beneath Sidney’s hand.

“I was going to take your hound back to the Vicarage, but when we’ve put him out of the room he sits at the door and howls.”  Sidney gently stroked the dog’s silky smooth ears, Grace replaced the oxygen mask and then gently drew the blankets up around him again.  “Get some sleep,” she ordered.

Sidney gave her a lopsided smile and closed his eyes.  A coughing fit woke him, it was agony.  He was being rolled onto his side and he felt someone patting his back and side, he coughed again, this time feeling something shoot into his mouth. 

“Spit,” she ordered.  He spat into the bowl she held and then she was offering him another glass of liquid to rinse his mouth out.  Then he was lying back on the pillows, panting. 

“Wipe your mouth,” Grace advised, “and get that oxygen mask back on.”

Sidney smiled, and closed his eyes again.  She laid her hand on his arm and quietly left the room.  He half awoke when the second injection was administered, Grace was bending over him, a stethoscope in her ears and a cool hand encircling his wrist. “Breathing still difficult,” she said quietly, “he brought up some sputum earlier.”

“Yes,” the man’s voice floated across him. “That may continue for a while.”

Sidney retained a vague memory of staring up at her face, and being completely entranced.  She’d given his hand a quick squeeze and looked down into his face, her lips had softened into a gentle smile and she’d said firmly, “You’ll be all right.”

Sidney watched as Grace turned to the man, “When’s the next dosage due?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” the man said.  “I’ll leave you in peace love.”

“Thanks, Dad.”  Grace murmured.  “You can see yourself out, can’t you?”

“I’d recommend getting Lily out of here,” the man said.

“Might be wise.  All right, Dad.  I’ll see you out.”  She gave Sidney’s hand a quick, tight squeeze and then he was alone again. Dickens pushed his nose beneath Sidney’s hand and reassured, Sidney dropped into slumber.

He retained only fractured memories of the next few days, hands on his body, almost smacking his torso when he coughed; of bringing up a yellow sputum that made him feel nauseous; and of gentle hands holding a cup for him while he drank.

He woke slowly, a young woman was sitting beside the bed, her dark head bent over a book.  He stared at her, drinking in the slight figure.  She looked up and a slow smile curved the lips, “Sidney?  Are you awake?”

“Grace,” he murmured.

“Grace.” She confirmed, “are you thirsty, Mr Chambers? Hungry?”

“Thirsty,” he rasped, “and it’s Sidney.”

“Be back in a moment.” She stood up and quietly exited the room.  Sidney lay watching the door, too weary to do more than lie there and blink.  Grace returned carrying two mugs of tea.  She set them down on the table and said, “Let’s get you sitting up.”

He was helped into a sitting position and another two pillows were stuffed behind him.  Grace sat down and then held out one of the cups for him, “Can you hold the mug?” she asked gently.

He nodded, she put the cup into his hands and wrapped her own hands around his until she was sure he had a firm grip.  Sidney sipped the tea as Grace picked up her own mug, “Who are you?” he asked slowly.

“I told you my name,” she replied gently, “Grace Whittington.  I’ve lived here for about eleven years.”

“I’ve never seen you at my church,” he said slowly.

“I haven’t been to church for more than ten years,” she replied, “in fact I have a hard time believing in a loving God.”

“Me too,” Sidney replied, suddenly too tired to fight any more, “I’ve failed as a Vicar – and as a human being-” His voice cracked and two great tears slid down his face to land in his tea.

Grace gently removed the  mug from his limp hands and set it on the bedside table.  Sitting on the bed she put her arms around this frail, auburn haired man.  His arms came up and wrapped themselves around her torso and burying his face in her shoulder, Sidney sobbed as if his heart was breaking.

Grace held him, stroking his hair and back as if he was a small child, not a grown man.  Eventually, he lifted his head, “Guess you think I’m an idiot,” he began brokenly.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Grace replied, “that isn’t important.  Do you want to talk about it?”

Sniffling, Sidney lay back against the pillows.  She handed him the mug of tea and a bundle of tissues.  “I don’t know what I want,” he said slowly, “I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a precipice.  I’ve failed everyone, even myself.”

“How so?” Grace asked kindly.

Slowly, brokenly, Sidney began to tell her about Gary Bell; the tears returned when he told her about the trial and hanging. “It wasn’t justice,” he wept, “Abigail asked him to give her the turpentine-” the rest of his story was lost in gut-wrenching sobs, Grace held his hand finally, through the tears, heard him say, “I’ve lost my best friend and destroyed my life-”

Grace waited for his distress to ease and then she said, “Why do you think you failed Gary?”

“I – I couldn’t save him,” Sidney raised red-rimmed eyes to hers.

“How do you know you did not?” Grace said gently. “you never deserted him; you remained with him even unto death, and you told him that God would grant him absolution and entry into Paradise.”

“He didn’t believe me,” Sidney managed a twisted smile at her.

“I don’t think the thief on the cross truly believed Jesus either,” Grace smiled, “despite our Lord’s assurances.  But do you think Jesus would admit this young man to Heaven?”

Sidney nodded, his eyes filling with tears again.  Grace reached up to touch his face, “You must forgive yourself.”

“I-I don’t know how,” he muttered through his tears.

Grace didn’t reply, merely squeezed his hand, “Finish your tea, Mr Chambers,” she said, “and then I think you should try to sleep.”

Sidney relaxed back against the pillows, “How long have I been here?”

“Four days,” she replied gently, “Pneumonia.  You were seriously ill.  But you’re still not out of the woods.”

As if to confirm her diagnosis, another bout of coughing erupted from him.  Instantly, Grace’s hands removed the mug and a bowl was placed on Sidney’s knees.  He felt her hands patting his back; almost hard enough to make him wince; he coughed hard and felt something fly into into his mouth.

“Spit!” Grace ordered.

Feeling disgusted by the sensation he did as she asked, and stared at the lump of yellow sputum.  “That’s vile,” he muttered.

“You may have to endure that cough for another two weeks,” Grace said kindly.

“What’s been happening?” Sidney asked, tiredness seeping into all his limbs.

Grace squeezed his hand, “Well, your curate is having kittens; Mrs Maguire is very graciously looking after my daughter at the Vicarage; your dog won’t leave your side and Inspector Keating is fast asleep on my sofa.”

“What?” Sidney blinked at her.

“Would you like me to fetch him?” Grace asked.

Sidney nodded, Grace gave his hand a final squeeze, “Back in a moment.”

She touched Geordie’s shoulder and he came awake so quickly that Grace was sure he hadn’t really been asleep.

“Sidney’s awake,” she said softly, “he’d like to see you.”

“Are you sure?” Geordie looked uncomfortable, “we didn’t part on very good terms-”

“You’re friends,” Grace replied, “when I asked if he wanted to see you he agreed.”

“All right,” Inspector Keating followed her up the stairs.

Sidney had fallen asleep again and Geordie stared at him, dumbstruck until Grace put a hand on his arm and murmured _sotto voce_ , “Sit down.  Would you like a cup of tea?”

Keating nodded and sank into the chair next to the bed.  Dickens, who had been lying beside the bed stood up and padded across to Geordie.  The Inspector stroked the silky ears and from somewhere managed to dredge up a smile.

Grace gave his shoulder a quick, firm squeeze and then Geordie was alone.  When she returned she was carrying two mugs, “I never got to finish my first one,” she explained.

Keating took the mug from her and sat down, his eyes never leaving the sleeping figure, his hands clasped around the vessel, “We disagreed about – about –”

“Gary Bell,” Grace said gently, “Mr Chambers told me.  He believes he failed that young man.”

“But he murdered that girl,” Geordie’s forehead creased in a frown.  “He received the only sentence possible for such an act-”

“I don’t know that it was murder,” Grace replied carefully, “he was wrong to do what he did; but so was she.  Both of them should have been able to confide in someone and explain their situation.  Neither could.  Perhaps that’s the real failing; that in the end it has led to two deaths and unending grief for two families.”  Grace sighed, “Gary’s death will not end Abigail’s parents’ pain, nor Mrs Bell’s.”

“I had no choice under the law,” Geordie said brokenly, “he killed the girl-”

“There’s nothing else you could have done,” Grace said softly, “I’m afraid it is the law.”

“Gods,” Geordie sighed, “I wish I could have made Sidney understand.”

“I think he did understand,” Grace replied, “he was railing against an unjust system and you just happen to be a symbol of that system.  He was also railing against the rigid injustice that said it was murder – and left no manoeuvrability for any other verdict.”  Grace sighed.  “It is the ones who are left we should pity.  The dead rest in God’s hands.”

Geordie’s lips thinned, “How can you say that?”

“God does not judge as men judge,” Grace replied firmly.

Geordie took a mouthful of tea, he swallowed and said, “We fought you know – the last time we met.  I thought he just needed a drink; I didn’t realise how badly he was affected.”

“As I said, he thinks he failed that young man,” Grace finished her brew and quietly put the mug on the bedside table, “and I doubt that he will ever get over this.  He will have to learn to live with it.”

“Are you sure he asked for me?”

“When I told him that you were asleep on my settee and asked if he wanted to see you he agreed.”

“What do I say?” Geordie asked.

“Perhaps you won’t need to say too much,” Grace replied.

Geordie nodded, not trusting himself to speak.  As Grace stood up, Sidney’s eyes flickered and opened, a smile curved the strong lips, “Geordie,” he murmured.

“Sidney,” Geordie leant forward and grasped his friend’s wrist.

Grace touched Geordie’s shoulder, “Gently, Inspector,” she said softly as she passed.

“It’s good to see you awake,” Keating said slowly.  “We’ve been worried about you.”

“How long have you been here?” Sidney asked.

“Three days on and off,” Geordie smiled, but Sidney noticed that the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.  “Mrs Whittington – Grace – sent me home, but when you took a turn for the worse I had to come back.  I’ve been here ever since.”

“Wearing a hole in my rug,” Grace said lightly.

“You should go home,” Sidney smiled tiredly, his eyes closing, “Cathy’ll be worried about you.”

Geordie nodded, “All right, Sidney.”  He smiled and leaning forward gripped his friend’s shoulder, “I’ll see you soon, all right?”

There was no response and Geordie realised that Sidney had fallen asleep.  Grace laid a hand on his shoulcer, “He’ll be all right, Inspector.”

“You’ll look after him?” Keating asked as he left.

“I promise,” Grace replied.  “We’ll see you soon.”

When Sidney awoke next, full daylight streamed in through the open window.  He lay looking at the blue sky for a long time.  The door opened and Grace entered the room, “Good afternoon, Mr Chambers, how do you feel?”

“Still a bit tired,” Sidney smiled.

“That will persist for a while,” Grace replied, she turned to the man who’d entered with her, “Mr Chambers, this is Marcus, he’s a colleague of mine at the hospital - I have some errands to run so I’ve asked him to come and look after you while I’m out.”

Marcus stepped forward holding out a hand, “Good afternoon, Mr Chambers. How about a cup of tea?”

Grace smiled at him, “Right, Marcus, I’ll get off.”

Grace knocked on the door of the vicarage, to her surprise, a rather portly man, wearing a purple shirt, and an ornate cross, opened the door and shocked, Grace recognised him, “Bishop Hugh!”

“Mrs Whittington,” the Bishop looked uncomfortable.  They stood staring at one another, finally he stepped back and held open the door, “Come in.”

A young, dark-haired girl was sitting at the table playing cards with the curate.  The tip of her tongue stuck out the side of her mouth as she concentrated intently on the cards in her hand.  Mrs Maguire touched the girl’s shoulder, “Lily, your mother’s here.”

Cards flew everywhere as Lily turned and scrambling off the chair flew into her mother’s arms. “Mummy!”

Grace knelt down to hug the child, “Have you been a good girl?”

“Yes, Mummy,” Lily replied.

Grace looked up, “Has she behaved herself, Mrs Maguire?”

“She’s been a delight,” Mrs Maguire replied.

“Good,” Grace smiled and was about to say something else when the Bishop interjected, “Mrs Whittington, may I have a word?”

“Certainly, Bishop,” Grace replied.

“We’ll use Mr Chambers’ study,” Bishop Hugh said, “if you’ll follow me.”

“Lily, sweetheart, if you would stay with Mr Finch, I just need to have a word with this gentleman.”

Lily grinned and practically scampered across to the curate, who by this time was on his hands and knees retrieving the cards that had fallen onto the floor.

“After you,” the Bishop said, gesturing to the study at the end of the hall,  “Please sit.”

Grace eased herself onto the hard wooden chair, “What is it, my Lord?”

“It’s about Mr Chambers staying at your house,” Bishop Hugh leant back in his chair, his podgy fingers resting on his portly stomach, “the Church feels that a single man staying in a widow’s house would impugn your reputation; and then there’s the matter of Mr Chambers himself to consider.”

Grace stared at him shocked and then she said tightly, “And what would you suggest I do?”

“The Church feels that if you could move away from the area it would avoid a scandal - and we could arrange to have Mr Chambers moved to a Convalescent Home and arrange for another incumbent to take his place-”

Grace rose to her feet, her whole body shaking with fury, “You attack my reputation for an act of Christian charity?” she swallowed. “And what about Mr Chambers?  If I do as you ask, what happens to him?”

“His behaviour has not gone unnoticed by myself or the other bishops, we feel to retain the smooth running of the parish he should be removed as soon as possible-”

“You’re something else,” Grace said, contempt dripping from her voice, “this is a man in crisis; he’s lost faith in God; in Jesus Christ and even in his fellow man.  What’s your solution? To remove him from his post - and withdraw your support in his hour of need.  Hell, you treated Sam Milburn better than this!”

“Sam Milburn was an isolated case -”

“He got a fifteen year old girl pregnant - and you gave him another parish!  But this man in the depths of despair you choose to disavow.” Grace swallowed, almost weeping with anger.  “My Lord, your attitude, to put it plainly is appalling.”

“Mrs Whittington, with the greatest of respect-”

“My Lord, with no respect at all!” She snapped, “whatever happens between Mr Chambers and myself is no business of yours - he hasn’t told me what he wants to do - but if he chooses to leave the Church, I’d support him, since whatever choice he makes, you will not.”

Leonard watched speechless as Grace swept into the room, took Lily’s hand and said tautly, “Thank you both for all your help.  Good afternoon.”

She was fuming all the way home.  Marcus saw the hard, set look her face and wisely took Lily’s hand, leading her into the lounge, “I’ll put the wireless on for her,” he said quietly, “and then I’ll come back and give you a hand.”

Grace nodded quickly, still not trusting herself to speak. Marcus gave her a quick, tight nod and then he was leading Lily from the kitchen.

“Are you all right?” Marcus asked when he returned.

“Just a minor altercation between myself and the Bishop,” Grace replied, “I lost my temper.”

“Why?” Marcus asked, as he brought two cups of tea across to the table.

She gave him a wry look and explained about her meeting with a peer of the Church.  Marcus sipped his tea and then said, “Could they force you to move?”

“The gossip chain could make life difficult,” Grace ran a hand across her face, “I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

“No I think you were right,” Marcus said quietly, “the Vicar needs care and support, not censure.  From what you’ve told me, the Church would have left Mr Chambers to twist in the wind.”

“You know how I feel about the Church,” Grace scowled.

“And I believe with good reason,” Marcus covered her hand, “I know you, Grace.  You could not see another human being in distress and not seek to help them.”

“But that’s a human thing,” Grace protested, “no-one could see someone in distress and not seek to help them – it would have broken my heart-”

_It would have cost you your soul_ , Marcus thought privately but didn’t reply.  He squeezed her hand, “Go and see your pet Vicar.”

Sidney was fast asleep when she poked her head around the door.  Satisfied, Grace left the room and slipped quietly downstairs.  Marcus and Lily were sitting at the kitchen table, Lily looked up when she entered the room, “Can Marcus stay for tea?”

“Would Marcus like to stay for tea?” Grace raised an eyebrow at him.  He gave her a silly grin and Grace rolled her eyes, “Would egg and chips suit – if you go and fetch the chips, Mark?”

He grinned at her use of the diminutive, “Very well, Grace.”

Grace turned to her daughter, “Lily, will you sit here while I go and see if Mr Chambers is awake?”

“Yes, Mum,” the little girl replied and Grace stroked her daughter’s hair before slipping upstairs.  She pushed open the door and found herself staring into a pair of slate grey eyes.  She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, “Good evening, Mr Chambers. How do you feel?”

“Wish the coughing would stop,” he grimaced, “I thought I’d bring my lungs up this afternoon.”

“As I told you before,” Grace explained gently, “you may have to live with the coughing for a while.  I’m cooking egg and chips for supper.”

A slow smile touched Sidney’s lips, “That’d be fantastic, Grace.”  He shifted position so that he was resting against the pillows and said, “I don’t suppose you’re doing baked beans too?”

“Another one!” Grace rolled her eyes, “all right.  Lily likes them too.  So it’s egg, chips and beans for you.”

“Lily’s your daughter?” Sidney asked.

Grace nodded, “I told you earlier, Mr Chambers, I’m a widow.  My husband was killed during the war.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and realised that he meant it.

“I’ll go and see if Marcus is back with the chips,” she said quickly.   She disappeared and Sidney was left staring at the space she’d occupied for a long moment, a thoughtful expression on his face.

Fifteen minutes later, Marcus appeared at the door carrying a tray, “Your supper, Mr Chambers.”

Marcus helped Sidney to sit up a bit more, moved a table beside the bed, and then laying the napkin over his chest set the tray over his legs, “Enjoy your supper Mr Chambers.”

He’d cleared his plate and was half-dozing when Marcus returned with a cup of tea, Sidney half-opened his eyes when he set the cup down on the bedside table.

“I said that I’d bring you a cup of tea,” Marcus smiled, “I’m just leaving so I said I’d come upstairs, fetch the tray and bring you a hot drink.”

“Will you thank Mrs Whittington for me?” Sidney asked sleepily.

“Certainly,” Marcus replied, “get some rest Mr Chambers.”

He drank the tea but was fast asleep when Grace came upstairs to replace the cup with a glass and a jug of water.  She stood watching him quietly for a few moments and then she quietly left the room.  Lily was fast asleep in her bed and Grace watched her daughter sleeping for what seemed a long time before closing her bedroom door and slipping downstairs.

It was the familiar sound of a clarinet that roused Sidney from sleep.  He lay for a few moments listening to the soprano saxophone and revelling in the music.  Curious he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Dickens getting to his feet as he did so.  He ruffled the canine’s fur and murmured, “Let’s go see where that music’s coming from.” He crept down the stairs, the dog padding beside him as he held onto the banister for support.  The music emanated from the room to his left and he pushed open the door.  “I didn’t know you liked jazz,” were the first words out of his mouth.

Grace’s head snapped round, “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” the shock in her voice was evident.

“Perhaps not,” Sidney agreed as he sank down onto the settee, Dickens padded across to Grace and rubbed his head against her leg.  “Do you often sit in the dark listening to _Perdido Street Blues_?”

“Only when I’m sad and I miss my husband,” she replied.  “This piece was one of his favourites.”

“Why are you sad?” Sidney asked.

“Too many reasons, Mr  Chambers,” Grace replied, “it’s my problem, I’ll deal with it somehow.”

“Does it have anything to do with me?” Sidney asked.

“Partly,” Grace took another sip of her drink, cupping the tumbler in her hands she stared down into its amber depths and said, “I insulted your Bishop. Twice.”

“Bishop Hugh?” Sidney closed his eyes, leaning back on the sofa, “might one ask why?  And how twice?”

“The Bishop and I go back a long way,” Grace began, “he’s my father-in-law.”

Sidney’s eyes popped open, “Bishop Whittington?”

“My husband was Captain Thomas Whittington – he was a member of the Cambridgeshire Regiment – killed at Singapore.” Grace took another sip of her drink, “I didn’t know all the details until about seven years ago – and I seem to have lost my way with God.”

“I know the feeling,” Sidney’s mouth twisted in a wry smile.  “So tell me how you insulted the Bishop.”

“He suggested that my reputation might suffer because I had taken you into my house,” Grace began, “and when I asked him what might happen to you if I did as he asked he said that another incumbent would be given your position and you’d be quietly sent to a Convalescent Home.  So  I told him what I thought of him.”

“He didn’t take it too well I presume,” Sidney said dryly.

“He didn’t take it well at all,” Grace grinned back at him, “you may lose your parish, Mr Chambers.”

Sidney lifted his head and stared at the slight figure, a darker silhouette against the dark sky.  “I know,” he said quietly.

“I suppose I may have to kowtow to my father-in-law’s demands,” Grace took another sip of her drink. 

“And I may have to kowtow to my church’s,” Sidney smiled in the darkness, “I don’t suppose you’ve got another of those in the cupboard.”

“You probably shouldn’t be drinking,” Grace remarked, but she set her tumbler down and walked across to a small cupboard. The small amount of light in the room allowed Sidney to see her practiced hands take out a tumbler and a bottle.  He heard the alcohol pouring into the glass and then she was moving across the room.  She sat down next to him and he felt her place the glass in her hand.  She stood up again and then she said, “I’ll come and sit beside you.”

He felt the sofa shift beneath him as she sat down, “I probably shouldn’t be doing this either.”

“Drinking?” his forehead puckered in a frown.

“No, sitting in the dark with a handsome young man.” Grace replied dryly.

He started to laugh, but it turned into a cough halfway through.   He took a sip of his drink, “I probably shouldn’t have swallowed,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry about it,” Grace said, laying a cool hand on his arm.  “It happens.”

The sound of the soprano sax filled the room and Sidney gently touched the back of his hand to Grace’s, they sat listening while the music soared around them.  Eventually, the piece stopped and the only sound in the room was the scratching of the needle.

“I’ll turn the gramophone off,” Grace said, rising to her feet, “and then we’ll get you to bed.”

She helped him up the stairs and into the bedroom, as she sat him on the edge of the bed he looked up at her, “Where will you sleep?”

 

“Don’t worry about me,” Grace smiled, “just get some rest.  Things will look better in the morning.”

Sidney nodded and slid into bed.  Grace pulled the covers over him and then quietly slipped from the room, turning the light off as she left.

Lily was still sleeping.  She pulled on a nightdress and then lifting the covers, slid into bed next to her daughter.   It seemed to take her a long time to go to sleep.

She woke slowly, a sliver of early morning light was showing though the top of the curtains.  Groaning softly, she threw the covers back and tumbled out of bed.   Her dress looked singularly unappealing in the cold morning light, grumbling under her breath she picked it up and shook it out, hoping to make the creases disappear.  Unwilling to slip into her own bedroom in her nightdress she laid the frock on the end of the bed and began to slip on her stockings.   Lily stirred as she slipped into her dress.  “Mummy?” she asked.

“Go back to sleep, sweetie,” Grace said, as she sat in front of the mirror, trying to style her hair.  “I’ll come and wake you for breakfast.”

As she slipped out of the bedroom she came face to face with Sidney Chambers, “Can I come down to breakfast?” he asked, “if I have to stay in that room any longer I shall go crazy.”

“Did you cough much?” Grace asked, her green eyes serious.

“A bit,” Sidney admitted. “Please?”

“Come on,” Grace sighed, “if you promise to sit quietly while I make breakfast.”

Sidney gave her a sheepish grin and followed her downstairs, Dickens padding at their heels.  Grace filled the kettle and lighting the cooker set it on to boil, she looked down at the Labrador sitting at her feet and sighed, “You’re going to eat me out of house and home.” She muttered. 

“What have you been feeding him?” Sidney asked.

“Mostly leftovers,” Grace replied.

“He looks well on it,” Sidney said.  At that moment the kettle started to whistle, Grace poured the hot water onto the tea leaves and then putting the lid onto the teapot set it on the table.

“I’ll go and wake Lily,” Grace said quietly, “stay here.”

She returned ten minutes later, followed by a sleepy, yawning ten year old, Lily plonked herself at the kitchen table, “Tea,” her mother said pushing the mug towards her.

“This is Mr Chambers,” Grace said, “Mr Chambers, my daughter, Lily.”

Lily rubbed sleep out of her eyes and yawning, held out a hand, “‘Lo, Mr Chambers.”

“Good morning, Miss Whittington,” Sidney said.

“Lily,” she frowned, “my name is Lily.”

A wry smile touched Sidney’s lips, “Then I’m pleased to meet you, Lily.”

Grace set the bowls in front of them and then turned back for her own, “I hope that it’s all right,” she said as sat down and poured herself a mug of tea.

“It will be wonderful, Grace,” Sidney said as he picked up his spoon.

When they’d finished, Grace patted her daughter’s head, “Go and get dressed for school, Lily.”

When Lily had gone, Grace gathered the bowls together, “Would you like another cup of tea, Mr Chambers?”

“Please,” Sidney said, “and I do wish you’d call me Sidney.”

“It would not be proper,” Grace sipped her tea, “and while your behaviour might be excused, mine would not.”

Sidney scowled and said, “Yes, I know.  It isn’t fair.”

“Life is not fair,” Grace replied, “as you  know.”

Sidney nodded, “So where do we go from here?”

“When I’ve settled you in the lounge, I shall walk Lily to school and then I shall call my father,” Grace replied.  “Ask his advice.”

“What do you think he will say?”

“He may agree with your Bishop,” Grace replied.

“What do you want to do?” Sidney asked gently.

“What I want to do, and what you want to do may not matter.  We are both constrained by time and circumstance.”

Sidney sighed, his head falling forward.  Instinctively Grace laid a hand on his arm, “I’m sorry.”

He raised his head, and managed to dredge a smile from somewhere, “It’s not your fault.  I’m glad you were there.”

“You know something,” Grace smiled, “I am too. Let’s get you settled in the lounge.”

She’d lit the fire and tucked a blanket around Sidney when they heard Lily’s clear voice, “I’m ready, Mummy.” 

Grace lifted her head and smiled, “All right, Lily.  Shall we go?”

She held her daughter’s hand as they walked the few minutes to school and left her at the gate.  “I’ll be back for you at four o’clock.  Be good.”

Lily nodded and accepting a quick kiss from her mother, slipped inside the school gates. 

When Grace got home, she poked her head through into the lounge, Sidney was fast asleep, the melodious notes of _Round Midnight_ were tinkling through the room and smiling she quietly closed the door.

The bathrooms and bedroom were done within twenty minutes.  She cleaned the kitchen and then set about preparing lunch, tinned salmon sandwiches.  Dickens got up from his place beside the cooker and sat looking at her, his huge eyes dark and soulful. 

Putting the plates on the tray she poured two glasses of lemonade, and setting them both on the tray, carried it through to the lounge.  Sidney was just stirring as she walked in.  She set the tray down on the coffee table and then made up the fire and turned off the gramophone.    He opened his eyes and blinked up at her, “Nice sleep?” Grace asked as she handed him the plate.

“Yes, I think so,” he blinked the sleep from his eyes and smiled up at her.  Dickens lay down at Sidney’s feet looking mournful. 

“Ignore him,” Grace ordered.  “And eat your lunch.”

When they’d finished, although Grace noticed that Sidney surreptitiously fed at least half his sandwich to the canine sitting at his feet.  When the plates were stacked on the table and they were sipping the lemonade, Sidney said, “Whatever happens, I will remain grateful.  You didn’t have to do this.”

“I think it comes down to the words of the Gospel according to St. Matthew,” Grace replied, “the parable of the sheep and the goats - although I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

“I think that you’re more of a Christian than you’ll admit to,” Sidney said slowly.

“More of an atheistic humanist,” Grace responded.  “Now I have a difficult telephone call to make, so I shall leave you in peace.”

As she picked up the tray, Sidney reached out to touch her arm, “Thank you,” he said simply.

To her surprise, she blushed crimson from her neck to her hairline.  Sidney laughed and looking down into his slate grey eyes Grace’s mouth went dry.  She swallowed and then stuttered, “I’ll - I’ll just clear everything away-”

It took her twenty minutes to calm down enough to pick up the telephone, her father answered almost immediately, “Dad!” Grace said in relief, “I was worried you wouldn’t be home.  I’ve got a bit of a problem.”

Quickly she explained the events of the past two days, he laughed when she told him about her encounter with the Bishop, finally he said, “All right, pet, I’ll be up in an hour, we’ll have a conference of war.”

“Yes, Dad,” Grace found it hard not to let her amusement show, “we’ll see you in an hour.”

Sidney was having another coughing fit when Grace entered the lounge, Dickens lifted his head from his paws and whined, Grace gave him a fond look and began patting Sidney’s back.  He coughed violently, and Grace handed him a tissue.  He grimaced and spat, Grace took the tissue from him and threw it on the fire.  He scowled, “That is disgusting,” he muttered.

“Better up than down,” Grace replied.  “Listen, I’ve spoken with my father and he’s coming here for what he calls a council of war - I don’t know what he can suggest, but he might be able to come up with something.”

“I think it’s going to take a miracle for me to get out of this one,” Sidney sighed.

“But I thought you were in the miracle business,” Grace raised an eyebrow, and for the first time, Sidney laughed.

“I’d kill for a cigarette,” Sidney muttered when she returned to the lounge.

“With that cough? Not a chance,” Grace replied. “and it might be all the impetus you need to stop smoking for good.”

“I don’t know about that,” Sidney replied. He smiled at her, “I like my alcohol and cigarettes.”

“You would,” Grace replied.  She laid her hand on his shoulder as she walked past, “Dad should be here soon.” Sidney covered her hand with his.

The scarlet Mercedes-Benz purred to a stop outside Grace’s door and the tall, still handsome man opened the door and got out.  As he reached the gate, Grace opened the door.  A broad smile curved her mouth and she fairly ran to the man walking down the path,  “Dad!”

“Sweetie,” he hugged her warmly and then said, “how’s your patient?”

“He wants a cigarette,” Grace complained.

“No chance yet,” her father replied, “let’s have a look at him and then we can talk.”

Sidney looked up as they entered the lounge, “Good afternoon Mr Chambers, I’m Dr Forrester, Grace’s father.”

“How do you do, sir,” Sidney extended his right hand.

“Call me Robert,” Dr Forrester said, shaking it warmly, “you look much better, young man.”

“I was lucky, sir,” Sidney replied. 

“Do you feel well enough to come through to the kitchen.” Dr Forrester asked, “we can talk properly there.”

Grace poured three glasses of lemonade and then sat down opposite Sidney, Dr Forrester smiled at his daughter and said, “Upsetting your father-in-law is probably not a good thing to do, love.”

“I know,” Grace scowled, “I know I shouldn’t have lost my temper, but I won’t be spoken to like a child.  Nor will I allow someone else to be cast aside simply because their behaviour is _inconvenient_.”

“This could cost you, you know.” Dr Forrester said quietly. “Both of you.  The Bishop is not one to back down.

Grace and Sidney looked at one another and then said in unison, “We know.”

Her father laughed, “I do have one suggestion.”  He paused, “much as I know you would like to remain here and ‘tough it out’ I think you would both be better off if you both left for a while.  Take a holiday. And Mr Chambers can recover fully and be in a better frame of mind to address the future.”

“I can’t really afford a holiday, Dad-” she protested.  “Even with the money you’ve been paying me-”

“If you’re concerned about Lily,” Dr Forrester said, “she can come and stay with us – you know your mother would love to have her.”

Grace bit her lip, “It isn’t just Lily.  I haven’t the finances, Dad.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Dr Forrester said, “you remember the holiday home I have in Poole?  You can both go there, and sort out your priorities.”

“This is very generous of you, Sir-” Sidney began but Dr Forrester stopped him.

“I am much like my daughter, Mr Chambers,” he said, “I will not stand by and allow someone’s career to be destroyed because it suits the establishment.”

Shocked, Sidney felt the tears come into his eyes and lowered his head so that they wouldn’t see.  Grace laid a hand on his arm, “It will be all right, Sidney,” she said quietly.

Eventually, he looked up and said, “I still don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” Grace replied.  She turned to her father, “I think that you’re right, we’ll go down to Poole.  The old trick.”

“Old trick?” Sidney looked mystified.

“Out of sight, out of mind,” Robert qualified.  “Take a month, let the dust settle.” He smiled, “I think you’d better resign from the hospital, I’ll employ you to look after Mr Chambers for the next month.  After that – well we’ll see.”

“What about Dickens?”

“I’ll take him back,” Grace said. “When do you want us to leave, Dad?”

“I’ll drive you down Sunday,” Dr Forrester said, “it’ll give you time to pack and sort out a few things.”

“I can get some clothes for you from the Vicarage when I take Dickens back.  I hope you have some mufti.”

“I haven’t worn mufti in years.” Sidney smiled.  “It’s going to feel very strange.”

“I think this is a time to embrace change,” Grace replied, “as Heraclitus said, ‘The only constant is change’.”

Sidney smiled, “A woman who quotes Heraclitus - will wonders never cease.”

“I’m also a woman with a Second in Theology,” Grace replied.  She rose to her feet and said, “I need to go into the village to do some shopping, will you two be all right here?”

“I think we’ll survive,” Dr Forrester replied archly and Grace laughed.

“You’re both incorrigible!” She sighed.  Regarding both men thoughtfully she gathered her handbag and coat and said, “Back as soon as I can.  How does lamb stew sound for supper?”

Dr Forrester looked at them both, “I’ll drive you.  We’ll take Dickens back, the Vicar can get some clothes and we can pick Lily up.”

Sidney looked down at himself and a shy smile touched his lips, “In pyjamas.”

“I’ll say that you’re still seriously ill and under my care,” Robert Forrester replied, “has he got a dressing gown and slippers?”

Grace nodded, “Want me to fetch them?”

“Please,” her father said quietly, his eyes never leaving his daughter’s face.  When they were alone he said, “She’s a brave woman, my daughter.”

“As is her father,” Sidney said quietly, “I am aware of the cost to you both.” He smiled wryly, “I am also aware what it might cost me.”

“Do you know what you will do?” Robert asked. 

“It depends what the Church will do to me,” Sidney managed a pained smile. 

“What if you left the Church?” Robert asked.

“I had considered that too,” Sidney sighed, “I seem to have lost my way with God somehow.”

Dr Forrester nodded, “Get totally well and then you will be better equipped to deal with whatever happens.”

The door opened and Grace came in carrying the dressing gown and slippers.  “Are we ready?” she said brightly.

Dr Forrester looked at her, “We’re ready.”

“When do we go?”

“I said Sunday,” Dr Forrester replied, “but I think the sooner the better.  I will take you both down tomorrow.”

“Do you get the impression that we’re being shanghaied?” Grace enquired, glancing quickly at Sidney.

“I think that when your family decide to do something, it gets done,” he replied.

“Are you always so diplomatic, Mr Chambers?” Grace asked slyly.

“I try to be,” he responded, “and it’s Sidney.”

“Come along, children,” Robert said, rising to his feet, “let’s go.”

The car stopped outside the vicarage and as Grace moved to open the door, Sidney put a hand on her arm, “Could you wheel me into the Church?” he asked, “I want to say ‘goodbye’.”

Grace nodded, giving his hand a quick squeeze.  Her father was already lifting the chair out of the boot, Grace wheeled it around to the door and her father came around to help Sidney into the chair.  His hand came up to cover hers, “Thank you for this.”

“That’s all right, Sidney,” she said softly.  “Let’s go.”

Sunlight poured through the stained glass windows, long crepuscular rays that lit up the inside of the building and gave it a warm, luxurious feel.  “This is glorious,” Grace said looking around.

“I thought you didn’t believe in God,” Sidney turned to look up at her.

“Even I can appreciate a glorious building,” Grace replied. 

The door behind them opened, both turned to see Bishop Whittington entering the edifice, he looked slightly shocked when he saw them both and then he cleared his throat, “Grace, might I have a word?”

“If your plan is to chew me out again,” Grace said tiredly, “I’m not in the mood.”

“I would just like a quick word,” the Bishop replied quietly.

“All right,” Grace replied, her eyes never leaving the man.  She laid a hand on Sidney’s shoulder, “Will you be all right if I leave you alone for a bit?”

“I’ll be fine,” Sidney replied, tipping his head back to look at her.

 

_Someone was calling his name, he blinked and opened his eyes, Gary was standing in the nave, a soft smile on his face.  “Gary,” he murmured, “What-”_

_“It’s all right, Mr Chambers,” Gary said, “I came to say that none of this is your fault.  You must forgive yourself.”_

_“How can I?” Sidney stared at him, the tears threatening to overwhelm him, “I should have been able to save-”_

_“But you have,” Gary smiled, “Mr Chambers you did save me. I’m at peace.  Both of us.”_

_“Both of you?”_

_Another figure materialized behind Gary and with a shock Sidney recognized the figure of Abigail.  Gary turned and gave her a sweet, shy smile.  “We have to go,” he said slowly._

_Sidney opened his mouth to say something but his voice died in his throat, as he watched the two figures slowly disappeared and Sidney jerked awake, tears streaming down his face._

 

“Well?” Grace demanded.

“We won’t be removing Mr Chambers from this diocese,” the Bishop said, “your father told me that he’s recommending a month’s holiday away from here.”

“Yes,” Grace replied, wondering what else her father-in-law was going to say. 

“We’ll take a chance and trust Mr Finch to run this parish for a month,” the Bishop continued, “and then Mr Chambers can come back.”

“And he’ll still be the Vicar?” Grace asked.

“He’ll still be the Vicar,” Bishop Whittington replied, “now the question is what do we do about you?”

“I’m irredeemable,” Grace replied, and for one of the few times in her life was rewarded with a thoughtful look.

“No-one is irredeemable,” the Bishop said quietly.  “Take your holiday.  See what transpires.”

“I can put the house on the market while we’re away,” Grace said suddenly, “Lily and I can move-”

“Let’s just see what happens,” Bishop Hugh said quietly.  “Now you’d better go and see to Mr Chambers.”

When Grace entered the church she was shocked to see the tears streaming down Sidney’s face. Concerned, she knelt down in the tiled nave and asked, “What happened?  Are you all right?”

Something cleared in his face and he looked down at her, “I-I saw them, Gary and Abigail-”

“You had a vision,” Grace said quietly.

“And you call yourself an atheist,” Sidney laughed, and fumbling in the pocket of her dress, Grace handed him a handkerchief.  He wiped his eyes and then in a moment of spontaneity bent down and kissed her.  They parted and Sidney shook his head, “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist.”

“Who says I wanted you to,” Grace murmured, pulling his head down to kiss him again.

They parted and Sidney smiled down at her, “I’m glad I met you, Mrs Whittington.”

“And I’m glad I met you, Mr Chambers,”

  **End**

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own 'Grantchester' or any of the characters, this story was just written for fun - I make no money from it. Please don't sue me I have no money.


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